


Introductions

by dragonofdispair



Series: Roads [10]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-01
Updated: 2008-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New faces, new places… or maybe I'm lying about the new places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Um… written way back in 2008 when i thought Tranquility, Sam's home town, might be in California.

It was a place of learning, of research. The halls felt hushed in that unidentifiable way that libraries and museums did, though conversations were carried on by almost everyone. People moved and talked in the entry hall as they maneuvered around the marble pillars and each other. Entering, leaving or just going from one place in the building to another they all belonged there, like bees that all belonged in the same hushed hive. Except one. 

No one consciously noticed when he entered the marble entry way. No one looked at him. None would remember him as anything but just another person moving from the entrance deeper into the building. None questioned him. But they all avoided him, gave him a wider berth than they did those who belonged there, didn't meet his eyes when they greeted him though he wasn't anything but friendly to those who did. In some unidentifiable way of body language and attitude, he didn't fit there.

Once he stopped someone and asked where a specific room was. It was a big building, full of hallways and rooms. But he remembered the directions given to him perfectly and didn't have to ask again. He slipped quietly into the lecture hall and might as well have ceased to exist as far as anyone noticed him. The focus of this room was on the lecturer in front, behind the podium, with none to spare for a single lurker who didn't move far from the door.

"...hieroglyphics. When is the academic community going to accept the fact that the pharaohs of the fourth dynasty did not build the Great Pyramids?" the lecturer was saying. "Look! Inside the pyramids, the most incredible structure ever erected, there are no writings, whatsoever.

A heckler toward the middle of the, admittedly small, audience questioned that, saying that writings had been discovered. The lecturer denounced the discovery as a fraud and turned to a briefcase, clearly intending to pull out something to support that claim, which is being denounced by the audience. Someone called out "Well, who do you think built the pyramids?"

For a moment the hall is absolutely silent, expectant, while the lecturer struggled. It was clear to that silent observer in the back that he had an opinion he clearly did not wish to say and so was grasping for something to say that may be received favorably. 

Finally he settled on, "I don't have any idea who built them. That -- "

"Men from Atlantis."

"Or Martians perhaps."

Laughter was the general response to the interruptions. But subsided somewhat as the lecturer raised his voice slightly to be heard. "The point is not who built them. The point is when the were built." More heckling drowned out what was being said until he raised his voice again. "I think we need to reevaluate everything we've come to accept. I've been able to show..." 

That was what the unknown, unobserved listener needed to hear and he slipped out as quietly as he'd entered. Not knowing that he was soon to be followed, first by the worst of the hecklers, then by the rest of the audience, leaving a somewhat bewildered lecturer behind in the hall.

The observer left the building with the same air of anonymous not fitting that he entered.

He made his way over to his truck, parked carefully away from any other vehicle in the lot and slipped into the driver's seat through the unlocked door.

"Well?" asked his companion.

"Pretty much perfect. Of course he's a civilian, but that'll probably be better for you guys anyway." Was the answer as the engine started and the truck pulled effortlessly out of the lot and onto the street. 

The passenger seat of the GMC Topkick was empty.

 

 

888

 

 

It was raining in Portland when Daniel left another lecture hall, after another failed lecture, a week later. He paused and put his bags down in the slight shelter of the door way, trying to judge the distance to the next sheltered spot along the route he needed to take to the nearest bus stop.

Suddenly there was an umbrella sheltering him from the downpour. "Doctor Jackson, someone wants to speak with you."

Daniel looked over at the person in surprise and not a little confusion. He was dressed in the dark formals of some military branch. He wasn't an expert but... "What -- Air Force?" The man nodded a bit. "What's this?" The man offered no answer. "What is this?" 

"Could you step over to the car?"

It wasn't an answer, but Daniel did notice the sedan for the first time -- black and unmarked with another man dressed in an Air Force uniform next to it. He bent over slowly to pick up his bags. "Sir." He wasn't completely sure this man rated a 'sir'. He wore a rank insignia, but Daniel wasn't familiar with it, and he was less likely to offend if he used the honorific unneeded than the other way around. "We going somewhere?"

"You're going to be fine." Again with the not answering. The man bent over, keeping the umbrella over their heads, and picked up one of the bags, then led the way over to the car. The other -- soldier? officer? -- opened the car door and took the other bag from him. "We'll take care of these," the first assured.

Daniel gave him a disgruntled look, but didn't argue, and got in the car.

He wasn't sure what to expect -- a military kidnapping perhaps, though what could the military, the Air Force, want with him? At least the car was heated, and dry.

The car's other occupant looked like a paper pusher, not a soldier, with a strait-cut mustache that he probably thought made him look more dignified. Maybe it did, but something about that mustache made Daniel feel a bit like he'd stepped into a comic book. He was reading a folder and didn't look up. Nervous, Daniel didn't speak either.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson?" Mustache man finally asked after a minute. Weirdly, Daniel felt like he'd passed some sort of test.

"Yes. What's this about?"

"A job." Brusque, to the point and not helpful at all. What was with these people and the not answering?

"What," he hesitated. He'd studied cultures and their subgroups, been accepted into Bedouin tribes and Egyptian households to study. He knew the rules there. But the military had always been closed to him. He didn't know the rules. And he was beginning to suspect this wasn't completely military. That he was being confronted by a secret projects group. He didn't know the rules, what was the best response, and had a feeling that it could get him in a lot of trouble. "What kind of a job?"

The man smiled slightly. Daniel couldn't tell wether it was impressed or condescending. Maybe it was both. "Anthropology. And eventually some some translation."

Spying in other words. "I'm going to go now." Hopefully the two goons outside would let him go.

"Go where?" This time the tone was unmistakably condescending, and amused, "You've just been evicted from your apartment. Your grants have run out. Everything you own is in those two bags."

The man was right. Daniel had nothing left and nowhere to go. He still wanted to get out of the car, leave Portland, and never see this man again, but after that reminder, he wasn't so sure he could afford to. He watched the other reopen the folder and pull out two sheets of paper. They were handed over.

The heading said "Horizon Air". They were an itinerary and confirmation number. Travel plans, to "Ontario?"

"It's less crowded than LA." Not an answer. "You don't need to decide until the plane leaves, in two days. If you don't come, you'll never see us again. If you do, you'll be met in Ontario and things'll get explained, but you won't be able to back out." He tapped on the back windshield of the sedan and one of the goons opened the car door.

As he got out, Daniel was handed his bags and the umbrella. A minute later, the car and its passengers, but not the questions it'd brought, were gone.

 

 

888

 

 

Less crowded than LA did not mean empty. Apparently Ontario was the place to go if you wanted to go to Los Angeles but didn't want to deal with the crowds at LAX. Daniel wondered, as he entered the gate area, whether his escort was expecting to meet him here or in the baggage claim. He hadn't checked any bags, but didn't think there was any way for the person he was meeting to know that. He looked around.

There was a sign, with his name on it, but Daniel didn't immediately see a person. Why became apparent as he got closer. The teen was seated on the floor, listening to a small music player and flipping through a textbook, with his picket style sign propped up against the wall next to him.

"Hello?"

The teen looked up and grinned, a quick easy grin, and scrambled to his feet with that awkward teenage grace. "Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes." What was a teenager doing meeting him here? Daniel had been expecting the military. Or at least someone older. Granted people could look a lot younger than they were, but that had been a high school textbook. How was a high schooler mixed up in a secret military group?

"No offense...they told me to check." Still puzzled, Daniel silently dug out and handed over his driver's license. "Cool. We picking up any bags?"

"No."

"Double cool. That's always the part I hate most about flying. Parking lot's this way." The teen slung his backpack over his shoulder, book stowed, and casually took one of Daniel's bags. "I'm Sam by the way. Sam Witwicky."

"Daniel." He answered automatically. Of course the teen, Sam, knew his name, but if he was remembering one study correctly, answering would imply permission to call him by his given name and encourage him to talk. Maybe he'd explain.

Sam talked, but didn't explain. Mostly he asked questions. He seemed really interested in anthropology, but the feeling wasn't right for someone who was interested in that field. Finally Daniel had to ask directly. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't expecting..."

"A high school geek?"

Well, he wouldn't have put it that way.

"'Sokay. I would've been surprised if Agent Banachek had told you 'bout me."

"Agent Banachek?"

Sam stopped and turned to give Daniel a surprised look. "Jeez -- the SOB didn't even introduce himself." He turned to continue walking, weaving around parked cars. "Bastard takes this government cloak and dagger stuff waay too seriously. Though, I'spose it coulda been worse."

"Worse?" He hated being reduced to a parrot, but the boy was enjoying this, and waiting for the prompts.

"Simmons probably woulda scared you off." 

Not answering. But this at least was simply the smug attitude of a teenager who knew something an adult didn't, and wanted to be smug for as long as he was allowed. Normal. And it definitely didn't unnerve him the way the military -- Banachek's attitude had. Sam may not be answering the questions, but this time Daniel knew the rules, and didn't think a misstep would get him locked up. Which, he mused, may have been the point to sending Sam to meet him.

A yellow car nearby beeped cheerfully. Sam made his way over and put Daniel's bag and his backpack in the back seat, motioning for his guest to do the same.

"Is this your car?" It was a really nice car. Daniel did not know cars, but this was new. Newer than new. And the yellow paint was pristine.

"Usually not, but it really depends on who you ask." He slid into the driver's seat and waited for Daniel to take the passenger seat. The engine started. Daniel guessed this must be one of the new button ignition cars -- it was new enough, and he didn't see a key.

For all that he didn't seem to be paying much attention, Sam was a very good driver, and knew exactly where he was going. "You're lucky your flight was on a Saturday -- else 'Bee and I wouldn't have been able to meet you. You woulda been met by one of the military boys. And that wouldn't have been nearly as fun."

There were two loose threads in that statement and for a moment Daniel considered which Sam wanted to him ask about. Teenagers did that, and asking about the correct one would foster respect and he'd be more willing to explain.

"Bee?"

Sam grinned and he figured that was the right one. "Bumblebee." He ran his hand over the dashboard like he was stroking the fur of a beloved pet. "'Bee, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson." 

Okay...he knew that naming their cars, even personifying them, wasn't unusual in the younger generation, but a formal introduction was a bit much.

_"Here I am -- This is me."_ The radio crooned out unexpectedly.

Sam's hand slapped against the radio controls so fast, the motion was almost panicked. "Sorry. Great car, but the radio's glitched."

_"What's it feel like to be a ghost?"_ Sam growled and muttered something uncomplimentary Daniel didn't catch. _"Everybody knows -- Ya can't say that on the radio"_ The radio seemed to answer. San continued to mutter and cuss at the car, fiddling with the radio. Finally he gave up.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten it fixed." Surely anyone who could afford this brand new car, that just had to be worth more that some of Daniel's grants, could afford to get the radio fixed.

Sam looked a bit nervous. "Yeah ... well, the problem is that it was broken when I got it, but it's fixed now. Now 'Bee's just being a bitch." His hand petted the dashboard again, fondly. Daniel got the impression that the car's radio problem didn't actually bother Sam, but the teen was upset that it had acted up in front of Daniel. "And his timing sucks. I can't figure him out sometimes."

_"All I need is prayer and a song."_  

"You sure act like it sometimes 'Bee."

Daniel was starting to see why Sam personified his car so much. If the radio always had that uncanny way of seeming to carry on a conversation, it would very easy for 'Bumblebee' to become a person in a teen's eyes. He looked at Sam again. Especially a teen who'd described himself as a geek -- in high school where being a geek wasn't a good social label -- and so probably didn't have many friends.

The car settled on a soft instrumental jazz station, which got it an annoyed huff from its driver, but he made no attempt to change it.

"So you wanna know about the military guys?"

The question was an attempt to distract him, but Daniel really did want to know about how this all fit in with the military, so he allowed it and nodded.

"Most of 'em are pretty cool -- they won't hassle you at all. Will -- Captain Lennox is actually the one who tagged you for this. I don't know if he'll be at the meeting though."

Interpersonal information rather than explanation. Still, Daniel was an anthropologist and that little bit told him a lot about this, ah..."project". The military "guys" went out of their way to be respectful to the kid. In return Sam liked and respected them and this "Captain Lennox" in return, but if he was allowed to call him by his given name, the kid was no where in the "Captain's" chain of command. And if he was going to be at a meeting that he wasn't sure Lennox would be at, he was probably more deeply involved with it than the captain.

"Agent Banachek and Simmons?" He asked about the other two names Sam had dropped.

"Agent Simmons -- at least until the first time he pisses you off enough to call him 'Ferret-face', then he's just 'Simmons'. And no, they won't be at the meeting either." Sam grinned a bit wider. "They're government gofers and generally kept on fairly short leashes."

Sam didn't like Agent Simmons at all. Someone had introduced the kid to old TV shows, which probably meant he was closer friends to the older military guys than he was with kids his own age. And if that insult was at all true the the TV character it had first been used on, Agent Simmons was a jackass, a rule monger and almost universally disliked. The distinction made between himself and the "government" implied that Sam thought the government didn't actually have much to do with the project, re-enforced by the comment that the agents were kept on "leashes". Daniel wondered who was holding those leashes.

"Agent Banachek gave me a couple of files I'm supposed to give you, and a script. If you wanna start looking at them now, they're in my bag." He waved a hand indicating behind him. Daniel twisted around to grab the backpack from behind the driver's seat. Inside were battered school books, a shiny new-looking silver laptop, and more folders and papers than he wanted to sort through. "Red folder first. And you're going to need a pen, front pocket."

Daniel pulled out the red folder, and a pen, before placing the bag at his own feet. The folder contained, "A non-disclosure form?"

"Yeah, they want you to sign away you're soul. But before you get all huffed, you might wanna take a look at the one behind it."

That one was a job description. "Anthropology and Linguistics." Apparently he was to study and make reports on a (unspecified) foreign culture in an effort to ensure relations between the members of this culture, described as refugees sheltering in the US but retaining their right to govern themselves, and the US government and, if a specific (again unspecified) situation occurred, other governments, remain open, honest and free of misunderstanding. There was also a salary, and a notation that living expenses, up to a certain amount, and all travel expenses, regardless of amount, would be paid outside his salary.

"Mind boggling, isn't it?"

"Generous certainly. But...I'm not a spy. I don't do, what did you call it before, 'government cloak and dagger stuff'."

"Well...yeah." The kid looked he didn't quite understand how 'Anthropology and Linguistics' might translate to 'espionage'. "Government cloak and dagger stuff is Simmons and Banachek's job. And once you sign the contract, they can't touch you."

"Contract?"

"Comes after the explanation, which comes after the non-disclosure form. Will and Simmons actually agreed on that, and when those two agree on something...and y'might want to read it pretty carefully -- I'm told the last paragraph isn't standard."

Daniel flipped back to the form. Apparently he wasn't liable for any exposure that he wasn't directly responsible for. And that if he was the leak but it was an emergency, there wouldn't be any penalty. With a resigned sigh -- there was nothing to go back to, he might as well see where going forward took him -- he signed.

_"It definitely looks like we got the front door, good buddy. Mercy sakes alive -- it looks like we got us a convoy"_ the defective radio butted in.

"Huh?" Sam looked up into the rearview mirror. "Looks like you're right 'Bee. What'cha think we should do about it?"

Daniel looked out the side mirror mirror to see what had caught Sam's attention. A big cargo truck, minus trailer, painted in red and blue flames.

_"If you come on with me, you need nerves of steel -- 'Cause I take corners on two wheels."_

"Cool." Sam dropped back and to the side, so his front end was even with the truck's bumper. From this angle, the thing was monstrous. Sam revved Bumblebee's engine twice.

"Wait! You're not actually thinking -- "

The truck revved back and the two vehicles shot forward on the empty road, heading to the desert. The little yellow sports car accelerated in front of the truck with what Daniel considered mind boggling speed, but when he worked himself up to looking back, he saw that while Bumblebee's acceleration had been whip-fast, the two vehicles seemed to have similar top speeds and the truck was catching up.

Daniel had to admit that the kid handled his car in a way that would have made a Formula 1 racer jealous. He did a fairly good job of blocking the truck. At least until the truck blared its horn and Sam had to pull out of the road or be run over. 

_"Never gonna give it, never gonna give it up -- You can't take me!"_ the radio shrieked and Sam growled as dust from the shoulder flew around the car. He pulled back on the road and floored it. Apparently they hadn't been going Bumblebee's top speed before, because they caught up almost before Daniel could blink.

Sam slid Bumblebee neatly around the truck despite its attempt to block him. _"Get off of my back -- and into my game._ _Get out of my way!"_ Bumblebee crowed, probably loud enough that the truck's driver could hear it. And they shot forward again, leaving the red and blue truck behind.

"Think he's done for 'Bee?"

_"Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."_ Sam laughed.

They slowed as they turned off, to "Tranquility" according to the exit sign. Then turned again, headed to someplace just outside of the town. Daniel managed to pry his hands away from where they gripped the bottom of his seat.

"Are you insane?" He couldn't help it.

Sam laughed again. "No way, no how, is Prime in 'Bee's speed class."

He knew the truck's driver. Daniel figured this wasn't the first time they'd done that.

They pulled off again, this time onto an open space with a single tenacious oak tree, and rolled to a stop. Both doors popped open. Daniel sneezed. Then sneezed again.

"Sick?"

"No, just allergies."

The view was breathtaking. They were on top of a steep hill, or short cliff, overlooking a medium sized town, presumably Tranquility. There wasn't any one else there. Sam dug the laptop and a CD out of his bag and perched on Bumblebee's hood.

"C'm'ere...we have a few minutes before Prime catches up to us and I wanna get through Agent Banachek's script before he and whoever he has with him gets here."

Daniel came. He started to copy Sam and sit on the car, but for some reason that made him feel uncomfortable and so he settled for standing close enough to see the computer's screen.

It showed an landscape of red rock. "This was recorded on Mars by the Beagle 2 Mars rover." For a second the camera simply scanned across red rock, then something moved, and the camera refocused higher. For one single second a shape that looked somehow humanoid and metallic blocked out and was distorted by the sun behind it. There was a blur of movement and the video went to static.

"Whoa." That wasn't human. That video was taken on Mars. "Can I see that again?"

"Better." He handed over a picture from a green folder out of his backpack. It was a screen shot, the clearest frame from the video.

"That's not human -- it looks mechanical. What -- Who?"

"Dunno its name. It didn't introduce itself as you saw. By the time anyone saw it again, it looked different."

"What...?"

"What's this gotta do with me?" Sam was still quick and easy with his grin, relaxed. Despite the seriousness and strangeness of the subject, he felt safe. "Well take that one step at a time. Gotta second picture for you."

This one looked almost identical to the Mars picture, a mechanical humanoid shape backlit by the sun. "That one is from the attack on a SOCCENT base in Qatar last June."

"Aliens?" Sam nodded. "Attacked? So, not friendly."

"That's where it starts to get complicated. Those two, Decepticons, are definitely not friendly, but -- "

_"We are forty against hundreds, in someone else's bloody war -- we know not why we're fighting, or what we're dying for."_

"Yeah. The aliens are kinda in the middle of a war, and the other side happens to like us a lot."

Aliens. Alien war. Too much. "No. I don't believe you. This isn't possible. I'm leaving." Daniel turned to the road, intent on following it...away. Away from Sam, his talk of aliens. "Martians perhaps?" The mocking question rang in his memory, ridiculing him. 

"Okay. How?"

That stopped him. He turned back. Arms folded to rest on the roof of the car, still kneeling on the hood, he made no move to hinder Daniel's leaving, but also no move to aid him. Clearly, if Daniel wanted to leave, go back to the university, try and salvage his reputation, he was doing it by himself. The kid wouldn't even give him a ride to the bus stop.

And then Daniel felt even sillier -- his bags were still in the back seat of the yellow car.

"Look. Daniel. I know this is scary, and unbelievable, and just plain freaky. Allspark knows I was pretty fucking freaked when I found out. But it's also the coolest, the best thing that ever happened to me too. Do you wanna know why Will tagged you for this?"

"I assume because I'd just ruined my life so I'd be more willing to come and listen to this...this nonesense."

Sam's head thunked on the roof of the car as he collapsed laughing. "No," he managed to choke out. "That's why Simmons and Banachek didn't argue too much about it." He took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Daniel's eyes. "Will," the name was deliberately emphasized, "tagged you, because of something you said when he attended one of your lectures. You said that you thought we needed to reevaluate everything we've come to accept."

"I was referring to the pyramids."

"Yeah, yeah. But saying it got you all but kicked out of your fields. And we need someone with an open mind. Look. I've got proof. Prime'll be here in a tick, and if you still want to leave when we're done, I'll at least drive you to the bus stop."

Daniel nodded. 

A huge horn blared behind him, and he turned to watch the red and blue truck making it's way up onto the lookout. He didn't acknowledge Sam's "Always has to have perfect timing, doesn't he? Showoff."

Something bothered him about that truck. It was the same nagging feeling that had made him reluctant to sit on Bumblebe -- Sam's car. Only more so. He backed away from it. Only to find himself stopped by Sam's hands on his shoulder. "Cool it. We're fine."

The truck pulled to a stop and the driver's door popped open. A black soldier in a T-shirt and camouflage cargo pants jumped from the seat. "Yo! Witwicky! How's it going?"

"Hey, Epps. We managed to get through the preliminaries and freak out number one. Just waiting for you to get here so you can grab him when he tries to run during freak out number two."

Laughing, Epps made his way over to them. "You're Dr. Jackson. Captain was impressed. I'm tech-Sgt. Robert Epps. Just Epps, please. My parents are the only ones who called me Robert, every time I hear it, I get flashbacks to the time I was the dweeb's age." And he reached over to ruffle Sam's hair.

"Hey!"

"Call me Daniel please."

"Nope. Not happening -- this works and you'll rank me, so you better be Dr. Jackson. So you wanna meet an alien?" He led the way over around the truck until they could see what was crouched on the bed behind the cab.

A giant...metal...undeniably alien scorpion. Daniel panicked. 

Only to be caught and held by Sgt. Epps. "C'mon. C'mon. Jeez, will you stop kicking and calm down. Jesus Christ, if anyone's allowed to have problems with the bug it's me. Will you stop it. Look -- it's like Captain Lennox said, if he's not trying to kill you, he a very nice bug."

"Let me go!"

"Somehow, I don't think that's working Epps."

"Shut up, dweeb. I don't see you helping."

"Oh...I'll help."

The shock of cold water chased away the panic and halted the struggles. Daniel looked at Sam and Sgt. Epps, as though seeing them for the first time. Sam had an empty cold thermos in one hand.

"Nice, kid. You got me all wet."

"It worked didn't it?"

It had. Now instead of panicked, Daniel felt tired and a little drained, trying to remember why he'd been panicked a moment before. His eyes widened in memory. He turned to the...the...the thing on the truck bed again. "Eep!"

Epps chuckled a bit. "Okay. You ready for a real introduction?"

Daniel nodded, still not trusting his voice. The scorpion crawled down from the bed and came closer.

"Dr. Jackson. This is Scorponok. Scorponok, Dr. Daniel Jackson."

The scorpion, Scorponok, made a krr-click? noise.

Without recalling any intention to move, Daniel found himself moving closer to Scorponok. The way the machine was put together was fascinating, complex. And the way it -- he? she? -- moved and reacted to him, there was no doubt in his mind that this creature was alive. In a trance, Daniel laid one hand on a smooth panel of armor? skin? and moved along the metal, trying to convince himself this was real, not a dream. Scorponok let out a mid-pitch, but almost sub-sonic purr-ing sound.

"Hey, dweeb, you ever hear the bug make that noise before?"

Daniel looked at Sam in time to see him shake his head.

"I have." 

Daniel yelped and leapt back, away from the truck which had been the source of that deeper, bigger than human voice.

"He made that noise the first time he made himself comfortable in my cab."

Suspicion exploded in his mind. He looked at Scorponok. Compared him to the memory of pictures of backlit shadows. "Scorponok's not like the ones in the pictures."

Sam and Epps smiled a bit conspiratorially at each other and moved to either side so Daniel's view of Sam's -- Bumblebee was unobstructed. "You wanted to know how I got involved in this." Sam's smile widened. "I bought a car."

At first the changes were so small he noticed only a clicking. Then the yellow sports car almost exploded into moving, whirring, shifting parts, until finally, it stood up, twenty feet tall, a vaguely human shaped robot.

Sam sidled up next to the awestruck Daniel Jackson. "I've already introduced you to 'Bee, but allow me to properly introduce him to you. Dr. Jackson, this is Bumblebee -- an Autobot."

_"I hear a secret in the rain. It's like the kiss of a lover. It's like a stranger knows your name."_

Daniel looked at the yellow robot in front of him, then to the mechanical scorpion behind him, then to the truck next to him that had spoken. "Anthropology, huh?" 

"Yeah. Cool, huh?"

This could be his life. Or he could walk away. But if he did that then he'd forfeit this chance to do...something amazing. Something...beyond human. He'd seen the possibility of aliens when looking at the Great Pyramids, and now he could study them in life -- though just by looking at Bumblebee he doubted these had anything to do with the pyramids. And sure, right now it was a secret...but the loopholes in the non-disclosure agreement suggested that it might not be secret forever.

This could be his life.

"Where's the contract you mentioned, Sam?"

 

 

fini

**Author's Note:**

> Not actually a crossover. Stealing a character, not fully crossing over.
> 
>  
> 
> Song credits, in order of use:  
> "Here I Am" Bryan Adams, from the Spirit: Stallion of the Cimerron movie soundtrack  
> "What's It Feel Like to Be a Ghost?" Taking Back Sunday, from the Transformers movie soundtrack  
> "Can't Say That On The Radio" Trick Pony  
> "State of Mind" Clint Black  
> "Convoy" CW McCall  
> "Mi Vida Loca" Pam Tillis  
> "You Can't Take Me" Bryan Adams, Spirit soundtrack  
> "Get Off of My Back" Bryan Adams, Spirit soundtrack  
> "Before He Cheats" Carrie Underwood  
> "Ireland" Garth Brooks  
> "The River's Gonna Run" Buddy and Julie Miller


End file.
